


As A Matter of Tact...

by Origami_Roses



Category: Mercedes Lackey -Valdemar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 18:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13746342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Origami_Roses/pseuds/Origami_Roses
Summary: Alberich can't read him, Talia can't sense anything from him. How did Lord Orthallen get so good at hiding everything?





	As A Matter of Tact...

**Author's Note:**

> Mercedes Lackey owns Valdemar, I'm just visiting her world for a bit to play. ^_^

Young Orthallen had gotten bored of making the rounds of his father's Country Estate, learning how to settle minor feuds and problems with tenant farmers and household servants; bored even of the leisure pursuits of his peers. It had taken months of careful maneuvering to plant the idea in his father's mind that he should be sent to Court. Rather than the private tutors he'd had at home, he now took classes at the Collegium with other highborn youth who lived in the capitol city of Haven and had parents who, for one reason or another, preferred them to study here. It was proving fertile ground for making useful connections, and rather more entertaining than the Estate had ever been.  
Dealing with the tenants and servants had given Orthallen practice at reading and manipulating people and situations. Using these skills in getting some of his less-favored peers involved in messy little tangles was downright fun. Doing it without anyone noticing his hand in the matter provided a bit of a challenge. Resolving those same tangles had gotten him a reputation for being a natural diplomat, and shown him what he really wanted to do with his life: run other people's lives. 

At 14, Young Lord Orthallen was the youngest at the Council table, there to learn about Court politics, diplomacy, and (judging by how often it happened in these meetings) giving deadly insults. He had been attending regular Council meetings as secretary to his Lord Father's proxy for nearly the last year, taking notes and learning about the various personalities and issues involved in the administration of a kingdom. He generally enjoyed the meetings, though he was careful to look and act mildly bored most of the time. Except, of course, when the insults began; then he kept his head down and eyes on the table so no one would see him trying not to laugh. People's reactions to insults were so very educational.  
His father's proxy, Andrus, was convinced that Orthallen was mildly scandalized by either the vituperative language being used, or the sheer hatred that existed between some members of Valdemar's ruling body, and lowered his eyes to avoid having to witness the spectacle. Just what Orthallen wanted the pompous old bore to think; it was best the old man remain as ignorant as Orthallen's father. Lord Kadrin Orthallen was the scholarly type; quite content to have nothing to do with the Powers-That-Be of Valdemar, quite unaware of his son's ambition to become one of those Powers.  
The last few Councilors were seated, and Orthallen settled in to enjoy this afternoon's entertainment.

Orthallen paced the gardens of his father's City Manor, thinking. The expected had happened; all was going according to plan, but the next step had to be carefully planned, flawlessly executed. Prince Sendar had been Chosen, and was now Heir-in-fact; so...which of the other former possible Heirs- apparent could Orthallen sacrifice his relationship with to secure his standing with Sendar? All of them were higher born than he and therefore had power. All of them could be useful, not all of them were easily manipulated. Unfortunately, the most appropriate possible target was one of the latter. Unless....  
Orthallen stopped in his tracks, ostensibly smelling an early blooming rose, as he studied a new idea. It was an angle he had never used before, which meant others would be more likely to misread the incident in his favor. If played well, with a little luck he could keep his carefully cultivated collection of royal and highborn connections intact, and advance himself a bit further, a bit faster than he had hoped.  
Smiling, Orthallen left the gardens to pick a little fight.

Sitting at the Healers, holding a cold pack to his black eye while waiting for a Healer to tend his broken nose, Orthallen was having trouble not grinning. Only the painful state of his face allowed him to contain his glee. Aside from the injuries, everything had gone perfectly.  
He had managed to start the fight without anyone overhearing, and Sendar's cousin Jamiel probably would never realize the fight had been inevitable. A little sympathetic commiseration at no longer being a possible heir even if Chosen, at the requirement of being Chosen - as Jamiel was not ... Orthallen had practically forced the arrogant idiot to say something scathing about Heralds in general and Sendar in particular, and had timed it so that part of the conversation had been witnessed, as had his defense of the new Heir. Pity he'd gotten his nose broken for it, but since Jamiel actually liked his cousin, he'd calm down. Once things had blown over, he would eventually apologize to Orthallen - preferably on his own initiative, but if not, Orthallen himself would take the first step to mending the relationship. It would keep him that oh-so-useful connection, and continue to build his reputation as a peaceable diplomatic sort. A very valuable reputation for his intended career.  
Again Orthallen had to remind himself not to grin. It would never do for the apparent loser in the fight to be happy. Or at least not too happy. He could shrug off some good humor as being glad he had defended his young friend and eventual king, but if anyone realized the gleeful exultation he was feeling, it would be a lot harder to explain. Truly, the broken nose was a good thing, he decided. Concentrating on the pain got him in a more genuinely subdued mood, and he had finally managed to completely control his expression as the Healer walked into the room. At least, he thought he had controlled his expression, but the Healer's greeting took him aback.  
" I've never before felt someone so happy about a broken nose. You're obviously not one of those people who actually enjoys being in pain, though, and since you're not one of the young rowdies we're always patching up, I'd say you're not one who seeks out or starts fights. It must have been something about this fight in particular. Care to share? Talking will distract you a bit while I fix you up."  
Orthallen did not wish to share, but as the Healer examined his eye, he managed a short reply about the rightness of defending a friend before asking "Why did you say 'never felt someone so happy'? Most people would say 'never seen someone so happy'."  
Yes, that was the ticket - best to get the Healer talking. People who talked about themselves tended to forget to think about what others said or did. ...or felt?  
The Healer shrugged a bit. "Most Healers have a gift called Empathy along with the Healing Gift. It lets us feel what others are feeling. Like your surprise at what I said, your pain when I peeled that cold cloth off. And a touch of panic just now. Sorry. I know a lot of people don't much like others reading them, but it really is useful in helping find out what's wrong. I'd much rather feel your pride and joy than what most people go shoving up my nose every day." He sighed. "It can get very tiring to have to deal with all the anger, fear, shame and pain, and I'm afraid today has been wearing my shields thin. I apologize. Hold still, now. This will hurt for a brief moment, but then feel better almost immediately." There was a flash of pain, and then a comforting warmth spread through Orthallen's face. "You'll have a bit of visible bruising for a few days, especially around that eye, but it should fade quickly. If you get a bit of a headache in the next day or so, take some willow tea and rest quietly for a while. If it doesn't go away within a few marks, come back and see us again. You don't have a concussion, but head trauma can occasionally have some odd side effects." Another sigh. "Oh, stop worrying. There’s no reason to panic. With something like a simple broken nose, it's almost never a problem. I'm just letting today get the better of me. Sorry about that." The Healer sighed again, smiled briefly, and left the room.  
Orthallen gingerly touched his nose, and followed slowly, deliberately thinking of only his nose, noting every little sensation, how it felt to breathe, every twinge of the mostly Healed bruised flesh around his eye. He deliberately avoided thinking of what he had just learned, determined not to feel the anxiety he knew would come; not here, where there were people who could tell what he was feeling. 

Once again, Orthallen was pacing the gardens. The revelation that there was a Gift like Empathy had profoundly unsettled him. He had learned about Herald's Gifts so as to know what he would be dealing with in his ongoing bid for influence and power. He had thought that having someone read his thoughts was the worst threat he faced from that quarter.  
He had also studied the rules and laws regarding the use of those gifts, and knew that, as long as he was not considered to be a threat or an enemy, he was fairly safe from having his thoughts searched. He had learned that there were ways of keeping others from reading your thoughts, though he had not yet learned how to do so himself. Was there a way to keep others from reading your feelings?  
The Healer had said that people "shoved their feelings up his nose", as though he couldn't help knowing what they were feeling. He had also said something about shields. The same word had been used with regards to ThoughtSensing in his research on Heralds. Could they be related? Could he use the same technique to guard both his thoughts and his feelings? And the all-important question: how could he arrange to learn this himself?  
He had to figure out who to ask, and how to ask, and he had to make sure that whomever he asked wouldn't think anything amiss. Now that he knew _feelings_ were an open book, he must also make sure he was feeling the right thing when he asked, not just presenting the right face and words. So he must come up with precisely the right reason for wanting to ask, one that was unexceptional and at least partly true. If it was true, he could focus on the true part, and his feelings should be in line with what he said.  
Perhaps a hypothetical question to one of his teachers? Or maybe make friends with some of the Heralds, instead of focusing on royalty and highborn? Damn the Heralds, anyway - so insular, so convinced that only another Herald could truly understand and be trusted. Perhaps cultivate a Bard or two? They supposedly had some gift or another, and knew about all kinds of random things. Or...Sendar. A royal connection he already had, and now training to be a Herald. He had just defended the boy, and could build on that. If Sendar was developing a Herald's gift, they would be teaching him how to use it, and that teaching would undoubtedly include those shields, whatever they were. He could encourage the boy to talk about his classes.  
None of this would be the same as getting intensive training himself, but if he followed up on all those ideas, maybe he could learn enough.

Learning about shields without being obvious about it had taken many months of painstaking effort. Occasional questions and comments, carefully guided conversations, subtle prompting of others to ask what he wanted to know had paid off in more than just information.  
Simply by being interested in what the boy was learning, Orthallen had gotten Prince Sendar to accept him as a close and valued friend. Half the Heraldic Trainees were now casual "friends". The other half thought he was just one more highborn brat, jealous of their pretty white horses and future career as a self-sacrificing target; such were easily goaded into bragging or defensive speech - containing bits and hints of things he wanted to know, often serving the double purpose of sowing little poison darts in the hearts of those truly jealous of the Heralds. His verbal defense of certain Heraldic Trainees (often against other Heraldic Trainees) bolstered his reputation as a peace-broker who didn't hold grudges. Several of the Bardic Trainees considered him something of a friend, and shared all sorts of information. He had even approached a Healer - though not the one who had first tipped him off to the existence of Empathy. The Healer had been kind, and after Orthallen had summarized the conversation and humbly asked how to avoid stuffing the poor fellow's nose and wearing down his shields with feelings, "just in case I do ever have to come here again sometime", he had confirmed that shields blocked most feelings as well as thoughts, and briefly explained some basic shielding concepts.  
And, best of all, stuffy old Andrus had given Orthallen the perfect reason to outright ask for lessons from his Collegium teachers. At a recent Council meeting, a question had arisen concerning the sending of an envoy to Hardorn. After the meeting, he had asked Andrus what was required of envoys, and how one went about becoming one. Most of the resulting lecture had revolved around "you are your Lord Father's heir, you will not be an envoy", but one phrase had given Orthallen a new direction: Heralds were almost always the first choice to be sent as envoys. For the first time, Orthallen had come to consider the possibility that other countries might also know of Empathy and ThoughtSensing. They might not have the strict moral and ethical standards to which the Heralds were held. Sending Heralds, who could surely block such methods of spying, would negate any such advantage in negotiations.  
Orthallen's increasing reputation as a resolver of disputes among the Trainees had led to more than one teacher suggesting a career in diplomacy to him. Despite Andrus' lecture, it seemed that even an heir to an Estate could be an envoy; he could certainly be an advisor or Councilor who would deal with envoys from other lands. He had taken the idea to one of his teachers, and today was scheduled for the first of a series of personal lessons on how to keep his thoughts private - for International Diplomatic Negotiations, of course; for the good of Valdemar.  
The future was looking very bright, indeed.


End file.
